âIt was Mr. Belcourt!â someone blurted out, shaking his head helplessly. âHeâs got a temper like a volcano! Apart from the president, nobody in the company dares to cross him!â
âMr. Dultch came up with this weird idea to test the temper of every big shot in the company.
guess who's Supposed to help us figure out who to handle with kid gloves when assigning tasks... and the most untouchable?
Yep, Mr. Belcourt...â
Before the person could finish, Mr. Dultch glared and shooed him away. âGet back to work! Mrs. Lenoir, donât pay attention to his rambling.â
Cherise was floored by their bizarre logic. âSo... your test concludes that Iâm cool as a cucumber, huh?â
Mr. Dultch grinned. âYep, youâve got quite the cool head. But donât worry, we'll do our best not to ruffle your feathers...â
Cherise was left speechless. She had unwittingly discovered such a peculiar department existed in Damienâs company!
When she returned to Damienâs office from HR, it was already eleven in the morning.
She walked in holding the thick employee code of conduct given by Mr. Dultch. Damien was at his desk, working.
At the sound of the door, he glanced up with a smile. The HR are a bunch of zealous peeps, huh?â
Cherise grumbled as she unloaded the items from her arms onto the office desk. âCan you believe it? Each of them insisted on getting my autograph. And after | obliged, they had the nerve to compliment my patience, as if | wouldnât have minded saying no from the start.â
Her efforts seemed wasted, leaving her feeling like an easy target.
âThey probably didnât mean any harm,â Damien said, approaching with a grin as he guided her to the nearby sofa. As he eased off her shoes, he added casually, âMr. Dultch can be a bit mischievous. But honestly, they just appreciate people who can keep their cool and won't be pushed around.â
âAnd with me around, who'd dare to mess with you?â His warm hand gently massaged her swollen ankle, injured earlier that morning.
Cherise remained silent, and her lips pursed in annoyance.
âStill giving you grief?â The manâs eyes flicked to her swollen ankle, concern evident in his voice.
âNah, itâs fine now,â Cherise replied, smiling. Before she could say more, a knock interrupted them.
âMr. Lenoir, I'm from Sales. The manager asked me to bring these documents to you,â a voice outside the door sounded genuinely concerned.
âJust leave them at the door,â Damien said, holding Cheriseâs ankle, his gaze unmoving.
With work hours in full swing, Damien couldn't afford to disrupt his routine or the companyâs operations for Cheriseâs spur-of-the-
moment decisions.
Damien sighed, looking resignedly at Cherise, who hurriedly slipped on her shoes.
âCome on in,â Damien uttered brusquely from behind his desk.